Those of you
who’ve read my novels, know that I love writing about dogs and that I
especially enjoy including them in stories about magic. This short-short story
is dedicated to my sister, Holly, who happens to be the sweetest, most
intelligent, beautiful, and lovable Jack Russell Terrier in the history of dogs.
Holly has been very sick this week and in the hospital down in Arizona.
Needless to say, even while writing, my mind and heart have been focused on my
dog-sister.
Imbolc
Neil
unzipped his coat, then bent and retrieved Adak’s ball from where the dog had
dropped it at his feet. Adak, tongue lolling and tail wagging, kept his gaze on
Neil’s face until the man wound up and lobbed the ball down the narrow path. The
moment the ball left Neil’s hand, Adak flung himself forward, streaking to
retrieve the well-worn tennis ball. Neil chuckled as the dog pounced on the
fallen toy and turned to trot back towards him, high stepping like a Clydesdale.
Man and dog continued this way for some twenty minutes, until Neil broke the
rhythm to mop his brow with a threadbare handkerchief, and strip off his coat.
Although a
delicate icing of frost covered the moss and small plants that lined the trail,
deeper under the cover of the trees, all was green. Neil shook his head at the
unseasonably warm temperature and thought, not for the first time, that this
was the strangest winter in memory. February had just begun and spring seemed
imminent. There was something about the air, the way it tickled his nostrils
and almost smelled like spruce sap, that made Neil think more of March, or even
early April, than the usually bitter-cold days of February. Neil’s thoughts,
rather than the temperature, made him shiver.
After a
time, Adak tired of playing fetch and began to weave in and out of the
underbrush, sniffing and marking, as he went, never once setting down his ball.
It pleased Neil that he never had to worry about the tennis ball. Adak never
lost or misplaced the toy, nor did he ever leave home without it, and having
known a few dogs with an equal passion for balls, Neil was grateful that he’d
never had to go wading through streams or searching through thickets to
retrieve his best friend’s most cherished possession. Not every dog owner was
so lucky. Just last month, his pal Travis searched a muskeg for an hour, trying
to find his dog’s favorite throwing disc. Finally, he’d given up and gone
shopping for a new one, but Oscar had moped around with sad eyes for ten days
before he deigned to play with the brand new toy.
Ahead and
just off the trail, Neil caught sight of Adak poised atop a small rise, the
ball still in his mouth, and his muzzle raised, as he scented the air. Adak’s
usually wagging tail went stiff and straight behind him, and he lifted one forepaw
in a classic point. Neil had just enough time to admire his dog’s pose and wish
he carried a camera on walks, before Adak turned towards Neil and barked once,
the sound deep and somewhat muffled through the ball. Then, Adak took off into
the woods at a brisk trot.
“What the…” Mark exclaimed before taking
a deep breath and calling his dog in a firm voice. “Adak! Come!”
Adak wheeled
around and headed back towards Neil, but he stopped, just a yard away. Neil
crouched down and held out the dog’s leash, which he’d been carrying draped over
his shoulder. “Come ‘ere, boy,” the man said in a warm tone, but Adak backed up
as Neil reached towards him. “Come, Adak. Come on, let’s get this leash on.” Neil
stood and clicked his tongue. Adak was well trained and Neil was proud of his
recall. Not since early puppyhood, had the dog failed to come lean against him
whenever he called, so this was startlingly out of character. “Come, Adak,” he
repeated, and the dog backed away two more steps, then sneezed.
“What has
gotten into you, huh, boy?” Neil took a step towards his dog and Adak took
another step back. “Got a bit of spring fever, maybe? You hearing the call of
the wild?” Neil took another step towards Adak who turned and trotted deeper
into the trees, before sitting down and watching Neil.
With as much
calm as he could muster, Neil shrugged back into his coat and walked towards
his dog, wishing he’d stuffed his pockets with dog treats. “Something got you
spooked, big boy? You want to leash up and go home? C’mere, Adak. Let’s go
home.” The dog stood up, whined softly, and stretched into a deep play-soliciting
bow before standing up and, again, trotting further into the woods.
Neil raked a
hand through his hair and squinted after his dog. What on Earth was Adak up to?
The sneeze, and now the play bow, seemed to indicate that he wasn’t frightened,
but this wasn’t a behavior Neil had ever seen before, either, so it wasn’t an
established game. Neil grunted and ran his hand through his hair again, then walked
towards Adak. It almost seemed as though the dog wanted him to follow. No
sooner had Neil considered this possibility, than Adak trotted further ahead,
looking back over his shoulder every few feet as though to make sure the man
followed.
The further
Adak led Neil into the woods, the more convinced Neil became that the dog was
leading him towards something important. Whenever Neil lagged too far behind,
the dog stopped and waited with seeming patience. Neil worried that Adak might
be leading him to a lost or injured hiker and he mentally rehearsed the meager
first aid skills he knew. Without supplies, or any of the other usual
preparation for backcountry hiking, Neil also realized that he might be putting
his own life at risk. Several times, as he contemplated the ever-gloomier
woods, he considered turning back, with or without his dog, but each time he
hesitated, Adak circled back to him, whining and looking soulfully into his
eyes. The man continued to second-guess his own actions, but, as if tugged
along by some invisible current, he followed his companion, even as dusk caressed
the treetops.
As full
darkness approached, Neil muttered under his breath about his own foolishness
and even swore when he remembered that he’d left his keys, and his tiny
keychain flashlight, in his truck. He surprised himself, though, as his eyes
adjusted to the deep murk, and his step remained steady and swift. Neil stepped
nimbly over tangled roots, around granite boulders, glacial erratics that had
been sprinkled across the region by the retreating glaciers of the last ice
age, and through densely packed thickets of underbrush.
At last,
Adak slowed, and then halted. Panting lightly around the ball that he still
held firmly in his jaws, the dog looked out across a small clearing, and sat
down. Equally out of breath, Neil finally came alongside his dog and within arm’s
reach, but Adak’s leash, slung around his neck, was totally forgotten.
The
clearing, in sharp contrast to the surrounding forest, was crusted with a thick
layer of hoar frost. Above, clouds scudded across the sky and a crescent moon
appeared. Beams of moonlight, refracted by a million crystalline prisms of
frost, set the cold ground to sparkling, as though it had been sprinkled with
fairy dust. In the middle of the clearing stood the oldest woman Neil had ever
seen. She was dressed all in snowy white and her long silver hair hung,
tangled, to her shoulders. Her skin was wrinkled and folded, but her eyes were
a piercing glacial blue. The woman leaned on a knobby staff half again as tall
as she was, and on her head rested a crown of dagger-sharp icicles that rose
even taller than her staff. Across the distance, Neil felt the old woman’s eyes
meet his own, and he went still and cold. Then, she looked away, and Neil drew
in a shaking breath.
There were
others, Neil realized, as he glanced around. Many others. Dozens of animals
gathered in a ring around the wintry clearing, though they made no noise. Most
of the animals were vague figures in the dark, but Neil could see the ones
closest to him and Adak. There were several small animals: shrews, marmots, hares,
two porcupines, and an owl. Neil also saw the telltale gleam of yellow eyes and
several sets of silhouetted canine ears that told him wolves were among the group.
Neil inched
closer to Adak, who watched the old woman in white as though he cared not a
whit about the other observers. Neil laid one hand against the back of Adak’s neck.
From the corner of his eye he saw Adak’s tail wag, once, then go still.
The old
woman leaned on her staff and hobbled to the edge of the clearing opposite Neil
and Adak. As he watched, the shadowy figures began to resolve themselves. Some
were, like the observers nearest him, animals, but others seemed human, or
almost so. A large male figure, heavily muscled and bearing an enormous rack of
antlers, stepped forward and held something out to the old woman. She accepted
it, tucked it into her white robe, then leaned forward while the male bent his
antlered head low so that she could whisper in his ear.
Next, a
lean, figure stepped forward with an odd, hopping gait. It appeared to speak to
the old woman, moving its beak as it held out a small parcel. Like before, the
woman slipped the parcel into her robe where, Neil decided, she must have a pocket,
and again she leaned forward to whisper something.
One by one,
they came forward, each more peculiar looking than the last. One by one, they offered
a gift, and received a whispered message. Neil watched in slack-mouthed awe,
half wondering if he’d stumbled upon some bizarre masquerade, and half knowing
that he was witnessing a wild and ancient magic, far more wondrous than any
costume party.
As the old
woman drew nearer to him, Neal began to notice that the creatures around him no
longer looked like the ordinary wild animals he had glimpsed upon his arrival.
Now, they each seemed to be an eerie hybrid of human and animal. One woman,
with the long neck and feathered head of a goose nodded at him, which startled
Neil into looking down. Near his feet sat a wild hare with ruby jewels dangling
from its ears, and wearing an embossed Chinese print silk jacket. A very small
woman with equally tiny, feathered wings sat in a saddle on the hare’s back. A
few inches away, almost touching Adak’s tail, stood a creature that appeared to
be fashioned entirely out of curling fern fronds. Breathless, Neil looked up
and met the yellow eyes and flashing white grin of a dark-haired man who had
bent to pat Adak’s head. The man wagged his tail in a graceful
swish-swish-swish, but Neil found himself unable to return his friendly smile.
As the old
woman drew closer, Neil’s sense of awe grew until he watched the repetitive
ritual of the offered gift and answering whisper in a kind of stunned
blankness. Until the old woman reached Adak, Neil hadn’t considered that he
would be expected to participate in the ritual, but seeing that she seemed to
even expect a gift from his dog, Neil’s brain sputtered into frantic motion,
scrabbling about in search of an appropriate offering. Adak, meanwhile, rose
and stepped toward the old woman as though he knew exactly what to do. He
looked up into her face for a long moment, then bent his head and dropped his
tennis ball at her feet. The woman bent stiffly, picked up the ball, which Neil
knew must be saturated and squishy with dog slobber by this point, tucked it
into her white robe, and whispered into Adak’s ear. A moment later, Neil felt
friendly but firm hands pushing him forward.
Up close,
the old woman looked more than old. She looked ancient. And yet, there was
something ageless and lively in her light blue eyes. Neal wobbled on his feet,
the woman reached out one gnarled hand to steady him, and he felt like he’d
been struck by lightning while being blasted with a frozen wind. He was both
hot, and cold. He was both comforted, and terrified. In an instant, he pulled
Adak’s leash from where he’d draped it around his neck and thrust it toward the
old woman. He wanted to be done with this. He wanted to step away from her
terrible elemental power. Was she laughing at him? At his gift? Her eyes danced
as she leaned towards Neil, and he felt her icy breath against his ear.
“Do not fear
change, for the wheel turns forever. Each new thing will wither away and become
old, only to be reborn in a new guise.” The old woman squeezed Neil’s hand, as
though in reassurance and continued, “Change is inevitable, but I will be here
long after humans have faded away into dust. Not even humans can banish the
cycle of life, and I will outlast even this lovely planet, which itself will
outlast humans by countless millennia. Do not fear.” The old woman gave Neil’s
hand one more squeeze then moved on while Neil stumbled back to his place.
When Neil
next looked up, he saw that the old woman continued to make her way around the
circle, but in the center of the clearing, the frost was melting. A girl, no
more than thirteen, stood barefoot on the wet moss. Like the old woman, the
girl wore a white gown, but unlike the crone, the girl’s crown was a ring of
flaming candles, with leafy vines woven through them. As Neil watched, the girl
opened her mouth and began to sing, and her melody was the sound of songbirds
and of growing things.
Spring would
arrive soon, Neil realized, as he buried his fingers in the fur of Adak’s thick
coat. Spring would arrive, and it would always arrive. Even after the coldest
and most desolate winter, new life would always return. The cycle was endless,
built into the universe, and as eternal.
